


Winner and (Second-Place) Winner

by ShiDreamin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Chaotic twin energy, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Miya Atsumu is a Little Shit, Osamu is ALSO a Little Shit, Valentine's Day, Zine - Connect: A Haikyuu Valentine's Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29794083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiDreamin/pseuds/ShiDreamin
Summary: “Yeah? At least I’ll have a wife! No one wants to marry a chef who can’t cook!”“I’ll have three wives!”“I’ll have four!”“Um, captain?”“You just watch! I’ll be the most valentine’d of the valentine’d bachelors on this planet!”-There are only winners in life. And, when you're half of the Miya twins, second-place winners. Atsumu and Osamu are the best worst get-along twins ever.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Winner and (Second-Place) Winner

“You’re stupid!”

“You’re more stupid!”

“You’re the stupidest of the stupids!”

“Um, captain?” Kita turned to meet Riseki’s face with a tired sigh, scratching his neck as the team stared warily at the Miya twins; sans Ojiro, who was shoving them both in an attempt to end their “brotherly” debate. There was no denying the ruthless skill the twins had, nor their strong presence that seemed to either empower or devour the team in their hunger for victory. But their bickering… well, it left something to be desired.

“You can’t cook! You think potatoes taste  _ sweet _ ! They taste like potatoes!” Atsumu yelled, swinging his hands rather uselessly in the air. Osamu met every swat with his own, slapping their hands in a way that could be mistaken for very furious high fives from a distance.

“You think bacon should be raw! Your wife will hate cooking for you!” Osamu retorted. Atsumu’s nostrils flared as he bounced in place, eyes narrowed.

“Yeah? At least I’ll have a wife! No one wants to marry a chef who  _ can’t cook _ !”

“I’ll have three wives!”

“I’ll have four!”

“Um, captain?” Riseki repeated.

“You just watch! I’ll be the most valentine’d of the valentine’d bachelors on this planet!” Atsumu stormed away from his brother, grumbling.  _ Stupid Osamu. _ He had thought, after all these years of playing together, that his brother would be happy to receive the offer to continue playing after high school. It was a well-known fact that outside of Tokyo, it was next to impossible to catch the eyes of national sponsors; yet, against all odds, the twins had.

And Osamu wanted to quit to  _ make onigiri _ .  _ Fine! _

All he had to do was get the most chocolates, and then Osamu would have no choice but to keep playing volleyball! A perfect plan.

“It sounds like a horrible plan.”

“Why?!” Atsumu protested, pacing in place as Ojiro looked over with a flat stare. He hadn’t been expecting all-around support in his quest, but he had been expecting— well, okay, he thought there would be more wholehearted support from his team. After all, Osamu was leaving volleyball. Osamu! Their prized man, second only to Atsumu himself. Wasn’t anyone sad?

“Your brother found something he’s passionate about. The least you can do is support him,” Ojiro sighed, folding his arms. “You’re being selfish.”

“I’m being selfish? Me? He’s the one leaving!” Ojiro’s eyes softened at the words, shaking his head.

“Either way, you’re not going to win that easily. Osamu has a lot of fans, you know.”  _ Lots of fans? _ Atsumu scoffed, raising a brow.

“He’s not the only one with  _ fans _ ,” he laughed, victory already in his grasp. “I’m the star setter of this team! Between me and Osamu, there’s no way I’d lose!”

As the days and hours ticked down to ground zero, Valentine’s Day, Atsumu kept his head held high. He and Osamu were getting on as usual: mostly petty squabbling, occasional jabs, and a synergy few could dream of competing with. It was exactly  _ why _ they had attracted the eyes of sponsors from around the nation. They were brothers, but more than that, they were friends.

And friends don’t abandon friends in their time of need.

Valentine’s Day dawned on them with an air of finality. Atsumu washed off the remains of his night mask with a grin as he smoothed his hair back, admiring himself in his uniform. Perfect. Handsome. Gorgeous!

“Ready to get beat?” He greeted Osamu with a grin. Osamu paused, rolling his tongue over his front teeth dramatically, as he hummed.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Who you calling stupid!”

“Um, excuse me?” Score! Just two steps out of their house and already a cute girl was hanging at their doorstep, shuffling behind a graciously large pink bag. She flushed immediately, practically swooning as Atsumu stepped forward.

“What is it, darling?” Atsumu grinned, tilting his chin a scant 20 degrees for the perfect angle. She squeaked, precious, shaking in his presence.

“Um, um, um,” she stammered before ducking her head, thrusting the chocolates forward. “H-happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Why, thank—”

“Osamu, this is for you!”

“—you.” Atsumu blinked as the girl swiveled to meet his brother’s arms with her gift. She managed a whole two seconds longer before squeaking again, bright red, and taking off before either could catch her name. The brothers stared at the crinkled bag a moment longer before Osamu’s lips spread into a toothy grin.

“Oh,” he smirked, twirling the bag, “how the tables turn.”

Atsumu barely swallowed his growl as they walked. The JR line stops were, as usual, crammed to bursting with incoming students and office workers. More than a handful were girls holding similarly sized colorful bags stuffed high with sweets, some store-bought, others handmade. Atsumu grinned when one of his classmates bumped into him and gifted him friendship chocolate, her fellow buddies following suit. Four to Osamu’s one.

“Oh, you’re Atsumu’s little brother, right? Here, you too.”  _ Never mind then. _

Atsumu could barely swallow his groan as the day continued on. Seven chocolates to six, then ten to ten, then twenty to more. He began to lose track somewhere around lunch when he opened his locker to not one, nor two, but seven chocolates crammed over his shoes. The short-lived victory turned on his head when Osamu opened his locker to find the same.

He might have been getting a tiny bit desperate.

“Don’t any of you have chocolate for me?” Atsumu whined at the end of practice, feeling remarkably bent out of shape. He was exhausted, shoulders sagging, eyes darting from volleyball to watching the fans and back. Their cheer section was adoring as always, and he had been delighted to receive chocolates from every girl. Less so when he discovered they had enough for the whole team,  _ including _ Osamu.

“Begging now?” Ojiro scoffed, but even so, his friend unveiled a small wrapped box. Atsumu beamed at the sight, only to grumble when he realized that there were not one but two of them. “Here, for both of you.”

“How mean!” Atsumu groaned, but he took the chocolate graciously, smiling slightly at the gold wrapping ribbon of the store near the station. They had wonderful almond cookies, and Ojiro got a discount as a family friend. He made a note to save some for Osamu— he always ate them too fast and got sad when Atsumu still had some left.

Wait.  _ Wait _ . No, no! He would not be playing nice until he won!

“I’ve  _ lost _ …?”

Atsumu stared in despair at the various sparkly packages eating up their floor. He rested his hands on his knees, softly recounting. The chocolates from his friends on the way to school, then from his classmates, and even his math teacher. The nurse gave him one when he feigned illness, and on the way back, it happened to be a free period for one of his exes who grumpily gave him a sizable bag. Lunch meant discovering a goldmine in his locker, then his desk had been jammed full, and coming back from the gym to see another two in his pencil box was a sweet surprise. Practice had been his final chance at victory but even then…

“Forty-nine,” Osamu repeated, pointing to each chocolate as he counted under his breath. Atsumu stared at his pile, repeating the motions. “How many do you have?”

“For—Forty-eight.”

Atsumu stared at the pile. It wasn’t a bad showing, he knew that, but he’d lost. A contest of his own creation, no less, to his little brother. If it were him who won the contest, he’d be no doubt showing off.

“Well, guess I lost.” He sagged as he spoke, pasting a smile he knew didn't fool Osamu in the slightest. “Have fun at cooking school, don’t come crying to me if you get lonely, okay, ‘Samu?”

He’d hardly finished speaking when a wrinkled bag dropped into his lap. It was  _ wet _ , first of all, and also way too heavy to be natural. Atsumu gaped, turning his gaze upward as Osamu frowned, averting his eyes.

“You haven’t lost. That makes forty-nine. Happy Valentine’s Day,” Osamu paused, fidgeting, before sighing into his clearly rehearsed speech. “To my stupid,  _ stupid _ big brother: don’t get too lonely while I’m gone, ’Sumu. Chase your own dreams because I’m chasing mine.”

Atsumu swallowed, throat closing up despite him fidgeting. He unfurled the bag, revealing a chocolate onigiri amateurly tossed together. It was dense, too heavy for a snack, and it left much to be desired in terms of dryness, considering the watery chocolate puddle that stuck to the bag. He took a bite.

It was  _ soggy _ rice, soaked for too long and strangely wet between the hardened chocolate shell.

“It tastes awful, doesn’t it?” Osamu laughed, shrugging his shoulders. Atsumu shook his head, mimicking a sob that was just slightly genuine.

“It tastes amazing,” he said, eyes wet when he swallowed another mouthful of the matted rice. “I’d buy every choco onigiri you make.” He wiped his face with the back of his left hand, smearing chocolate bits onto his forehead. Good. “You’ll be an amazing chef.”

“You’re stupid,” Osamu sighed, yet he grinned as he pinched a crumb of the chocolate rice. He took a hesitant bite before spitting it into his hands, coughing. “Oh, that’s awful.”

“You’re stupider,” Atsumu grinned, wiping his chocolate fingers on Osamu’s cheek. “Have fun at cooking class. I’ll line up to be your very first customer, ‘Samu.”

“Stupidest of the stupidest, ’Sumu.”

**Author's Note:**

> My other piece for Connect! Miya twin chaotic energy is GOOD
> 
> Not enough people point out Osamu and Atsumu are both cocky little jerkheads. They are menaces and everyone should know it. Menaces!!!!!
> 
> Judge my life choices on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/shidreamin/)


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